d have liked to impress upon
him.

"At least that proves I did not steal the money, Mr. Quarles?" asked
Darry.

"I suppose so, though it is an open question as to whether you have any
right to take these little inoffensive animals, and sell their coats to
Ketcham. I think he might be in a better business; but then he always
was a cruel boy."

As Darry remembered the hardware man he believed him to be a jolly,
red-faced man, and with a kindly eye, quite the opposite from the fishy
orb of Mr. Quarles; but then there are some things that had better
remain unsaid, and he did not try to voice his opinion.

"Then you will not do Mrs. Peake this little favor, sir?" he asked.

"Business is business with me, young man. Sometimes it is one person's
day, and then the tables turn, and it is another's. This happens to be
my time. According to the strict construction of the law, and the
wording of the mortgage, the failure to pay the interest on time, with
three days' grace, constitutes a lien on the property. I have a use for
that cottage--in fact, a relative of mine fancies it. Here, I will give
Nancy a chance to redeem her home. Wait a minute or two."

He wrote rapidly on a sheet of paper, signed the same, and held it out.

"Seven days I agree to wait, and if the principal and delayed interest
are not handed over to me by next Tuesday, just one week from to-day, on
Wednesday they will have to vacate. That will do, boy. Tell Nancy I only
do that because of our old friendship. Had it been anyone else they
would have cleared out before this. You can go now."

Darry had to bite his lips harder than ever to keep from telling the
skinflint just what he thought of him.

Thrusting the paper in his pocket he stalked from the den of the human
spider, his mind in a whirl; but grimly determined to try and find some
means for saving the humble home of Abner Peake from the hand of the
spoiler.

CHAPTER XVII

ABNER TELLS A LITTLE HISTORY

As he walked home that evening Darry was figuring. Fourteen dollars was
not going far when the sum required, according to the figures Mr.
Quarles had written out, reached the grand total of a hundred and eleven
dollars and thirty-seven cents.

He had had much more than that on board the poor old _Falcon_ when she
went to pieces, the amount of his savings for several years; but there
was no use of his thinking about that.

To whom could he look for assistance?

He had not a friend, sa